A Biography of Alexander Hamilton (1755-1804)

The Duel (July 11, 1804)

During the course of the 1804 election season Hamilton had regularly and
flagrantly vilified Burr in speeches, some of which were attended by
Burr's agents who reported back on their contents. Hamilton covered much
the same ground repeatedly: that Burr was an unprincipled schemer, and
would, if given the opportunity and power, tear the nation apart. One of
Hamilton's talks in particular, given at a private dinner, was attended
by a Burr supporter whose synopsis made its way into print. Burr took
particular notice of the writer's inflammatory claim that Hamilton had
expressed certain "despicable" opinions of him, and that the writer
"could detail . . . a still more despicable opinion" that Hamilton
had uttered.

Burr, who at the time of the disclosure had been defeated by Hamilton's
candidate in the gubernatorial election, wrote an ominous letter to
Hamilton demanding an explanation of the "still more despicable opinion."
Hamilton was evasive in his reply: ". . . that I have expressed some
other still more despicable; without however mentioning to whom,
when or where . . . admits of infinite shades . . ." The letters flew
back and forth. Soon, "seconds" took over messenger duties--preliminary
steps in the code duello to an eventual interview. Hamilton parried to
Burr's thrusts; while Burr demanded an admission that the thing had been
said, Hamilton continually pointed to the vagueness of the reporter's
assertions, and indignantly objected to Burr's hostile approach. Neither
Hamilton nor Burr revealed the nature of the "more despicable opinion;"
but both apparently knew to what it referred; and it seems that they will
be the only ones who will ever know for sure despite some interesting
guesses by historians. Or perhaps neither knew what it was. Hamilton
had already covered the spectrum of despicable in his anti-Burr harangues
of the past four years, and Burr had found no reason to challenge him.
Could the "more despicable opinion" have been the invention of a
particularly clever and cruel baiter for whom Burr and Hamilton, both at
that point unstable, operating at the very edge of severely frayed
nerves, made an easy catch?

Ultimately, Hamilton acquiesced to Burr's demands for satisfaction. It
was impossible for him to avoid the duel, he wrote in a summary
statement, because "it is not to be denied, that my animadversions on the
political principles character and views of Col Burr have been extremely
severe . . ." Hamilton added, however, that his statements were not made
on "light grounds, or from unworthy inducements." Some of the
things he said, admitted Hamilton, might have contained misinformation,
but, "It is also my ardent wish that I may have been more mistaken
than I think I have been, and that [Burr] by his future conduct may shew
himself worthy of all confidence and esteem, and prove an ornament and
blessing to his Country."

One can imagine that a grim smile flickered across Hamilton's face as he
wrote those last words.

Hamilton busily went about getting his affairs into order, preparing a
concise statement on his financial situation, making apologies for his
debts while taking solace in the fact that "in all the pecuniary
concerns the delicacy, no less than the probity of my conduct in public
stations, has been such as to defy even the shadow of a question."

To Elizabeth, he wrote: "If it had been possible for me to have
avoided the interview, my love for you and my precious children would
have been alone a decisive motive. But it was not possible, without
sacrifices which would have rendered me unworthy of your esteem. ...Adieu
best of wives and best of Women." What comfort Elizabeth Hamilton
might have derived from that statement must have been cold indeed.

Burr received satisfaction at Weehawken on July 11, 1804, when he
mortally wounded Hamilton on the first shot. Still alive, but paralyzed
from the waist down, Hamilton was brought to the home of a friend where
he slowly died from internal bleeding, much like Philip had two and a
half years earlier. He breathed his last at two o'clock in the afternoon
on July 12.

Alexander Hamilton left behind him Elizabeth, their seven children, and a
mountain of debts. After all the accusations that he had taken advantage
of his own policies for personal profit, Hamilton was close to broke when
he died. For propriety's sake, he refused to enrich himself; for
propriety's sake, he refused to accept the army pension to which he was
unquestionably entitled; for propriety's sake, he regularly undercharged
his legal clients. When he could have amassed a fortune he resolved not
to, preferring instead to leave a blameless public record:

"Because there must be some public fools who sacrifice private to public
interest at the certainty of ingratitude and obloquy--because my
vanity whispers I ought to be one of those fools and ought to keep
myself in a situation the best calculated to render service--because I
dont want to be rich and if I cannot live in splendor in Town . .
. I can at least live in comfort in the country and I am content
to do so."

Had contentedness been possible for Hamilton, he probably would have
found it in retirement at the Grange surrounded by his family. Ever
restless, ever disappointed, he grasped onto the most available means to
secure his honor, and find a respite from his struggle.